Hear Me Now
by GoldsworthyGontierGirl123
Summary: "And the truths that we all try to hide are so much clearer when it's not our lives when we don't face the blame." Sequeal to A Lifetime. Eli and Clare's son learns the truth about his birth, or should I say their grandson. Discontinued. Remaining unwritten plot posted.
1. Preview

**Hello, everyone, and welcome to the third part of my Degrassi series! **

**Now, if you read the author's not on "A Lifetime", you know that I am now where near donw with the first chapter, but I don't want you guys to think I dropped off the face of the earth.**

**This is just a little preview. Think of it as a commercial, a badly written commercial where most of the lines used probably won't even be in the actual story, but it gets my point acrossed, but a commercial all the same! This story has two plots: one moslty invovling Bryson, Eli, Clare, Julia, and Brady, and one involving Oliveria and another OC Xavier! Also I have two more OCs (Annabel and Dakota) that mostly interact with Bryson, and a small surprise for everyone who loves LA and Calissa! The first chapter will be posted under this story.**

**The song used is "Hear Me Now" by Framing Hanely (where I got the title from). I don't own it!**

**So enjoy the preview!**

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><p><strong><em>Well, I swear to God we've been down this road before<br>The guilt's no good, and it only shames us more  
>And the truths that we all try to hide,<br>Are so much clearer when it's not our lives  
>When we don't face the blame<em>**

"Dakota, do you know what this means?" Bryson asked, panicked, shaking so much the scrapbook shook out pictures.  
>"You get two Christmases?" Dakota shrugged, not sure of his answer.<p>

... ... ...

"How could you do this to me?" Bryson yelled.  
>"We did what we though what best," Eli calmly replied back.<br>Bryson calmed down, collecting his thoughts. A tear dropped from his cheek, staring the table. "Best for you or best for me?"

**_Won't you (get on your knees)_**  
><strong><em>Believe<em>**  
><strong><em>In this lie with us all.<em>**

"I understand," Annabel ran her hand down his back comfortingly.  
>He clenched his fist. "No, you don't." He jumped up, yelling from the rooftop. "My entire life's been a lie!"<p>

**_Now my body's on the _****_floor and I am calling,_**  
><strong><em>Well I'm calling out to you,<em>**  
><strong><em>Can you hear me now?<em>**

... ... ...

**_It's not rebellion when you're selling out to an_**  
><strong><em>Out of fashion salesman<em>**  
><strong><em>Our promising lives, are full of empty promises<em>**  
><strong><em>Temptations falling and calling you home again<em>**  
><strong><em>well I'm sorry, if we've let you down<em>**

"Xavier," he introduced letting himself into the gym.  
>Taken aback by his cool reaction, she stuttered, "O-Oliviera."<p>

... ... ...

"You haven't seen it with the music yet," she smirked, flicking his nose, flirtingly.  
>"And what song would that be?" he smirked back, pinching her cheeks.<br>"A song you've probably never heard of," Oliviera boasted, turning away from him.  
>"A little hipster, aren't we?" Xavier grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. Their noses almost connected, an inch away. Oliviera quickly hid a blush.<p>

... ... ...

"I'm out," Oliviera whispered, staring down at her notes.  
>Xavier stopped writing and glanced over at her. "What do you mean?"<p>

**_Won't you (get on your knees)_**  
><strong><em>Believe<em>**  
><strong><em>In this lie with us all.<em>**

"Oliveria, what is going on?" Xavier demanded, holding onto her wrist in the empty corner.  
>She sniffled, not wanting to look at him. "My family's messed up, okay? Happy?"<br>"Not really," he admitted, looking worried. He bit the inside of his lip. "That doesn't tell me much."

**_Now my body's on the floor and I am calling,_**  
><strong><em>Well I'm calling Out to you<em>**  
><strong><em>Can you hear me now?<em>**  
><strong><em>Now my body's on the floor and I am crawling,<em>**  
><strong><em>I'm crawling out to you<em>**  
><strong><em>Can you feel me now?<em>**

"How could you?" Bryson yelled fighting back tears. "How could you do this to us?" Oliviera held his arms back to keep him from jumping forward.  
>"Bry…" Julia cried, reaching out for him.<br>Oliviera grabbed her brother's hands. "I think it's best if you leave. I'll stay here tonight."

**_What's wrong? What's wrong? What's wrong?_**  
><strong><em>What's wrong? What's wrong? What's wrong?<em>**

"We fucked up," Brady sighed.  
>"You think?" LA spat.<p>

**_What's wrong? What's wrong? What's wrong?  
>What's wrong? What's wrong? What's wrong?<em>**

"We can't scheme our way out of this one," Eli realized, turning over to his distressed wife.  
>"We're terrible."<p>

**_Now my body's on the floor and I am calling,_**  
><strong><em>Well I'm calling out to you<em>**

"I love you."  
>"I love you, too."<p>

**_Now my body's on the floor and I am calling_**

"Oliviera!" he yelled reaching out to her.

**_Now my body's on the floor and I am calling_**

"Bryson…" Annabel whimpered, falling to the floor in a big crying mess.

**_Now my body's on the floor and I am calling_**

"LA, the babies are coming!"

**_Well I'm calling out to you._**

"Save me from myself… because I don't have the power to do so anymore."

* * *

><p><strong>There you have it. I have no idea when I'm going to finish the first chapter! I have finals coming up, and violin and choir concerts, but I plann to have it up before the end of the year.<strong>

**So until then: Live, Love, PTV, Degrassi! (Hey, that rhymes slightly! Chessy rhyming...)**

**(PS: PTV stands for Pierce The Veil. I love them as much as Munro! It's a tie, they're that awesome! Enoguh of my rambling. Why are you still reading this? Don't read my rambling! Well, since you did, thanks for paying attention. If you did read this, add the word 'Vic' to your review and the first chapter will be dedicated to you!)**


	2. The Truths that We All Tried To Hide

**Hello Readers and welcome to the first offical chapter of Hear Me Now! I'm so excited to get this started and I can't wait for you to read it! **

**On my profile are pictures of what I pictured the characters as. If you wish, you can go check them out.**

**This is just a starter chapter, give you a little insite on what it will be about.**

**No EClare in this chapter, but the next will have big focus on them! Yay!**

**(Edit): I can't believe I forgot this... I knew I would and I did... aw... Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to Ayley, R0CKSTARM0NST3R, and natalia.9614 for putting the word 'Vic' in their review! Ah, what the heck, dedicated to all who reviewed! Thank You so much!**

**Without further ado, Chapter 1! Enjoy!**

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><p>"My mom said we had a family tree up here," Bryson Goldsworthy said, coughing as the dust from the attic hit his lungs.<p>

"Family tree and dust," a dark haired boy complained. "Do you guys ever clean up here?"

"I've never even seen someone come up here," Bryson groaned, ruffling through boxes. He pointed to some purple boxes on the other side of the attic. "Dakota, can you look over there in the purple bins? It's my sister's stuff."

"Sure, Sargent Enthusiasm," Dakota Levi muttered, shuffling to the bins. He ran his fingers exhaustedly through his shaggy, shoulder-length, dark brown hair. Once his hand fell down to the boxes, his bangs covered his chocolate brown eyes again. As he opened the boxes, dust sprayed from the sudden movement. His face cringed, crinkling his snakebites on his lip. He waved the visible dust particles from his tan face as he pulled out the blanket covering. "I'm not going to find any of your sister's panties in here, right?" He smirked suggestively.

"Yeah, if you look deep enough in your dreams," Bryson quipped, placing all the stuff he took out of a cardboard box back. He snickered at the open crush that his best friend had on his sister, Julia.

"Hey, if I were older and Brady was out of the picture, I think I would have a pretty good shot at her," Dakota retorted. The second box's lid popped off with ease, allowing him to rummage through the millions of books stacked in perfectly even rows inside. "Ha, I always knew your sister was a book worm."

"There's probably like four more boxes with just that in- Found it!" Bryson exclaimed, cutting himself off, proudly holding up a thin scrapbook in the air, moving all the dust within the light that was shining through the attic window. The dust swirling made the blonde boy seem to glow with magic.

Dakota, ignoring him, kept looking through the stacks of books. They were all either Japanese literature and comics or old novels, like the works of Charles Dickens and John Steinbeck. He held up a collection of Edgar Allen Poe poems and tales, smirking. "Classic," he said, a big fan of Poe's work.

Bryson took a seat on the floor and flipped through the album anxiously. Although in search of the family tree for a project instead of his own personal interest, the thought of learning where he came from fascinated him and he was ready to start the project. He was always intrigued with facts about genetics. "This book dates back six generations!"

The dark-haired teenager turned his head from the pile of books to his best friend. "Bryson, you're speaking to someone who isn't an expert in genealogy and genetics. Dumb it down."

"I don't know how I could make it any more clear, amigo," Bryson answered, not taking his eyes off the information.

Dakota raised an eyebrow, staring his best friend down. "Is that some sort of racist comment?" he asked, mentioning his Mexican heritage.

Bryson smirked. "You'll always be my favorite beaner."

Dakota slowly shook his head slowly, returning to the book stack. "You're not Latino. You can't say that," he said in a serious tone. Both boys knew he really didn't mind.

Bryson went back to flipping through the album, intrigued by all the old pictures of his parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, anyone in his family he could think of was right in the palm of his hand. A few pages ahead of where he was came out a small, dusty picture that fluttered into his lap. Placing the book down, he gently picked up the old, frayed picture from his lap. The sight made him smile: his mom and dad in high school.

"Bingo!" Dakota exclaimed, staring creepily at a locked book in his hands.

"Dude, what did you find: my sister's bra?" Bryson smirked, joking at the expression on his best friend's face.

Dakota's eyes went huge as he turned towards Bryson. "I can find those in here?"

"Shut up," Bryson sighed, pushing himself off the floor. "What did you find?"

He held the book out in front of him. "Julia's diary," he smirked.

Bryson swiped the locked book from his hands. "Dude, what do you think you're doing? This is my sister's private diary from way back when."

"Come on, Bry. You can't tell me you don't want sneak a peek inside, go into the mind of your sister," Dakota persuaded, taking the diary back. He held the key lock in his hand, examining it. "I could get into this easily."

"Dude, no," Bryson said.

"Dude, yes," the dark-hair boy retorted, digging through the box. "I saw a jewelry box with bobby pins in here somewhere…"

Bryson sighed, watching his friend pull out a black hair pin from a small dark purple box. There was no changing his mind. If he couldn't stop him, he might as well try to censor Julia's words.

Dakota jiggled the pin in the lock until it clicked open, something he was a professional in. His smirk grew bigger as he threw the lock in the back pocket of his white skinny jeans. The pages made a cringle sound as he flipped through the off white pages. Some of the ink used was purple, other words were written in black, other grey. No day was the same the next. Dakota slid down the box to the floor and started on about a quarter of the way into the book. " _January 6__th__, 2027,_'" he started, "'_So Brady and I had a… let's call it awkward talk today…_'"

"Dude," Bryson interrupted, but Dakota continued.

"Boring, boring, boring…" Dakota flipped a couple of pages ahead. His eyes widened as he read. "'_February 13__th__. I'm really frightened right now. It's mine and Brady's anniversary and I have a special surprise for him. What if he doesn't want it? What if he thinks I'm a freak for taking things this fast? I don't want to lose him. He's really all I have. Hoping for the best._'" He looked up at Bryson. "I don't want to read the rest."

"Then don't," Bryson tried to ignore him. His mind was trying hard to focus on the family tree, but his mind was racing about what Julia had written. Curiosity got the best of him as he grabbed the diary from Dakota's hands. "Give me it."

"'_I can't believe that just happened. It was… wow, amazing. Now I know why people on TV are always eager to do it,_'" Bryson read aloud, his eyes popped open like Dakota's now, too. "'_Yes, Brady and I had sex. It was…_'" he tried to read, but ended throwing the book down. "Oh, ew! No! Do not want!"

As disgusted as Dakota was, he crawled over to where Bryson threw the journal. Opening it up to a few months later, he read out loud, "'_April 12__th__. Today's Brady's birthday. I'm a nervous wreck. My hands are shaking as I write this. Ever since I found out, I haven't been able to even look at Brady. I hope he doesn't think I'm ignoring him, but how can I not feel weird around the guy who got me…_'" Dakota breathing was noticeable as he turned back towards Bryson. "How old is your niece?"

"Fourteen," he answered, knowing he was talking about Oliviera.

"And Julia is how old?"

"Thirty-one…" Bryson answered cautiously. "What's with the third degree?"

Dakota slowly handed Bryson the diary, pointing to the line he didn't finish reading. He took the book and skimmed through the passage. "Blah, blah, words…" His face lost all color. "No, this can't be. Oliviera was born in 2030. This is the year I was born."

Dakota pulled at the corner of a picture that was sticking out of the scrapbook. Examining it, he scrunched his eyebrows together. "Dude, what's the blonde?"

Shaking, Bryson took the picture from his friend's hand. He held it up in front of him to get a better look. The light shining through the attic window made the ink written on the back appear on the front. He turned it around, reading the words: 'Brady, age 3.'

"He looks exactly like you," Dakota said, handing him the scrapbook. "There are more like it in here."

Bryson held the scrapbook, examining all of the old pictures of Brady. He looked almost identical to him as a baby. "Same hair, same eyes, same… everything…" he squeaked.

"If I didn't know you, I would say that Brady was your dad," Dakota joked, trying to get Bryson to laugh. He hated tension.

"I was always told that I looked like my grandmother… until now," he whispered, not able to take his eyes off of Brady's pictures. "Quick, hand me the diary!" he demanded, even though the book was in his lap. Flipping rapidly through it, he stopped when he reached his birthday. "'_November 16__th__. Bryson's asleep in the tiny crib next to my bed. He looks exactly like Brady. My baby's so tiny. I can't believe he's real. He's a tiny little miracle._'" His eyes turned from the diary to the scrapbook and back again, everything being processed in his brain. Slowly, he put down the journal and picked up Brady's picture. He jumped up and ran to the same box he got the scrap book from. Inside was his baby book, filled with pictures of him up until age five. He flipped to his third birthday, staring at the picture of him behind his cake.

Dakota walked up behind him, his eyes looking from Brady's picture to Bryson's. "I didn't know Brady was a blonde."

"Neither did I…" the blonde teen mumbled. He started shaking violently. "Put the pieces together: I look nothing like my parents, Julia's diary, Brady's picture." His pale cheeks and scared eyes turned towards his best friend. "Dakota, do you know what this means?" Bryson asked, panicked, shaking so much the scrapbook shook out pictures.

"You get two Christmases?" Dakota shrugged, not sure of his answer.

"No…" he whispered. His breathing was heavy, like he was about to hyperventilate. "Julia and Brady are my real parents."

* * *

><p>"Okay, it's all set," a middle-aged woman dusted off her hand at the work she just finished. Spread out around her were giant blue mats covering the gym floor of the high school.<p>

"Thank you so much," a dark haired girl smiled, admiring the newly covered floor.

The teacher looked over to the fourteen-year-old girl. "Well, you need to practice before finals. It's perfectly reasonable."

The teen took out a small bag from her backpack. "This routine has to be perfect. I've been perfecting it all year."

"Well, I'll leave you to focus on it. Good luck, Oliviera," the teacher wished.

Oliviera Lancaster smiled, looking down at the bag in her hands, then up at her teacher. "Thanks, Mrs. Huggins."

The adult left as Oliviera changed into her practice uniform. In an instant, she changed from hot pink short shorts, thigh-high black socks, a pink elbow length shirt, black vest, and signature animal hat— today was a panda— into a black and purple stripped leotard. Her long, dark brown hair that was put down under her panda hat was up in a high ponytail on top of her head, the small curls ending at her shoulder blades. Her bangs still covered her forehead to the left and had two longer, very curly single strands run down on each side of her face, stopping at her chin.

She took a step onto the mat, feeling her foot sink. The feeling felt liberating. She waited all this week to finally be able to convince the school to let her practice after classes.

She stood at the edge of the group of mats, throwing her arms in the air. In a sprint, she started into a front handspring, doing three consecutively. When she stopped, in-between her fingers was a shiny sliver baton. She smiled, feeling the cold metal between her index and middle finger. The baton went spinning through the air as Oliviera twirled on the mat below. She caught the baton with her left hand. She took steps forward, throwing the baton up and catching it with the opposite hand every step. Stopping and taking a few twirls, she threw it behind her back and caught it again. While twirling with her right hand, she lifted her left leg upright in line with her head with ease. She threw the baton high in the air, almost touching the ceiling, just the right amount of time to swirl herself, her left leg lowering with each step, until she resembled a ballerina. Going into a fourth position ballet pose, she caught the baton in her right hand. Immediately, it went back up, flying backward this time instead just up. Once the baton was airborne, Oliviera jumped back into a back handspring, two backflips, and another back handspring. She landed in a hand stand and caught the falling baton with her toes. Without warning, her hair fell from her lightly tied ribbon, curls covering her face. Her breathing was heavy and reverberated across the gym. She stayed in the hand stand for a while, not able to take herself down, just standing there, catching her breath.

"Wow," a male voice rang out. Clapping started from one person.

Oliviera felt her pale cheeks turn red. No one, not even her friends, knew about her passion for baton and gymnastics. The only people were her parents, the principal, and the gym teacher, Mrs. Huggins. Finally getting the nerve to move, she fell from her hand stand and dropped her baton. Her long hair fell out of her face to the bottom of her back. "You didn't happen to see that?" she hoped.

The boy's jaw was practically on the floor. "Are you kidding me? That was a amazing."

She blushed at the complement. "Thanks."

"Xavier," he introduced, letting himself into the gym.

Oliviera, taken aback by his cool reaction, stuttered, "O-Oliviera. W-We share a lab table in biology... and I'm in your history class, and PE."

He smiled. "You're the girl with the panda hat! I knew you looked familiar." He took a deeper look at her. "Why are you blushing?"

She had no immediate answer. Xavier Hanley was popular, hockey team captain, friends with the rest of the popular kids. Oliviera was out-casted, branded a freak for her love of crazy clothing and Japanese culture. By the age of nine, she was fluent in Japanese while most of the kids had a loose grip on the full concept of English. What was he doing talking to her?

"I could ask you the same," she retorted, regaining the ability to speak.

"I'm not," he replied, a questioning look on his face.

She mentally face-palmed. Why was she so nervous? Cautiously wiping her sweaty hands on her bare leg, she asked, "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Got out of detention early for my first offense," he answered, like it was the most obvious thing ever. Oliveria glanced over to the clock on the gym wall, reading 4:05. Did it really take fifty minutes to set up the mats, not even adding in the dress-put time?

"Well, then, shouldn't you be on your way home?" Oliviera asked, really wanting to go back to practice in peace, not being he annoyed her, but because she was embarrassed to have someone she knew watch her routine.

"Parents don't pick me up until five," Xavier answered, taking a seat on the first row of the almost closed bleachers. "I have nowhere to be."

Oliviera groaned. Xavier smug face made no motion in changing his mind about leaving. "Fine. If you want to stay here, you can. But I have rules, rules that I expect you to follow." She took a step forward, off the mat. "Rule one: you don't have to watch, but if you do, you watch on silence. I don't want any remarks out of that mouth."

She reached into the open pocket of his backpack, pulling out a rubber band. Xavier tried to protest, but Oliviera placed her index finger on her lips. "Rule two: you don't talk about this. This is my personal getaway and I would love for it to stay personal."

Pulling her hair up with the rubber band, she tied the ribbon into the band. "Rule three: I stay off your back, you stay off mine. We both know that you would be dead if you were caught talking to me. So even though we've know each other since kindergarten, we don't talk outside of this room, excluding bio projects, partner," she emphasized the last part of her demands as she turned around to start practice. Before she could grab her baton, Xavier let out a loud seductive purr. Oliviera rolled her eyes. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into.

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><p><strong>There you have it! I hope you enjoyed the beginning! I have huge things planned for this story! <strong>

**Thanks for Reading!**


	3. So Much Clearer When It's Not Our Lives

**Hello, mostly irratated readers!**

**I hate writer's block. Absolutly. But that is no excuse for being so late. I apologize. And it's no excuse for this chapter to be so short. page and a half? Not my best work.**

**And I know I promised Eli and Clare, I figured I'd introduce another important character and a plot twist at the end! I literally thought of the twist a half hour ago. **

**So now it's challenge time!**

**At the end of the chapter, Oliviera is on the phone with someone. Without skipping to the end, try and figure out who it is!**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>"Now, before we do anything harsh…" Dakota started, popping a potato chip in his mouth.<p>

"They lied to me," Bryson seethed, slamming his pop can on the cafeteria table. Once again, he opened up the incriminating journal to the day of his birth. He had read the page so many times that day, he had it memorized. Even the way she wrote it, her handwriting, was engraved into his mind. His entire day was dedicated to the journal. This was the first time he'd talked to his best friend all day.

"Bry, I know this is tough, and you know I'm _never _the voice of reason," Dakota said between chews. "But before you get carried away, you might want to try talking to someone: your parents…"

"Which ones?" Bryson cut him off. "Eli and Clare or Julia and Brady?"

"Dude…" he groaned.

"You don't get it," the blonde replied through his teeth. "My life has been twisted upside down and if start singing the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song, I will pull those lip rings out of your head," he threatened, seeing the glimmer in the Latino's eyes.

The shine turned dull. Dakota's hand went up to his mouth. "Ow…" he whispered, touching his rings. "But it's a classic show."

"I don't care at the moment," Bryson groaned. "You know, you may be my best friend, but you're a pain in the ass sometimes." As harsh as the words came out, Bryson's face held a smile. No matter how annoying Dakota got, Bryson couldn't be mad at him. They had been best friends since the first day of pre-school when they both laughed so hard at the teacher tripping over a toy that they're chocolate milk came out of their noses.

"Just so long as I'm best man at your and Annabel's wedding…" He took a long drink of his pop. "I'm good."

"As long as you promise to wear a tux, I'm good," Annabel joked, walking up behind them. "Hey, Bryson." She kissed his cheek before she took her seat next to him.

"Hey, Annabel." He kissed her cheek back.

"You see, I got a problem with formal wear," Dakota stated. "We don't get along."

Bryson and Annabel smiled at each other. "Says the guy who wore skinny jeans and a tuxedo tee shirt to homecoming junior year."

"Hey, you can't say that I'm not creative," he pointed out, leaning back in the blue plastic chair.

"But we can say that you're not romantic," Annabel smirked.

"That's obvious by hismlack of girlfriend," Bryson joked.

"Yeah, yeah, let's take shots at the Mexican," Dakota sighed, finishing off his can. After setting down his can, he dug his cell phone out of his pocket, checking the time. "Gotta go!" he exclaimed, an excited look flashing across his face. He stood up and grabbed his back pack, spinning towards the exit, miscalculating where the chair's legs were. He fell face forward onto the floor, luckily only catching the attention of his friends. Blushing, he excused himself and walked out of the cafeteria, already dialing a number on his phone.

Annabel and Bryson took a collective laugh at him. Dakota was their comic relief, no matter how hard the day. Just one sentence out of his mouth could make up for anything harsh thrown at them. While laughing, Annabel's eyes fell on the open journal. Curious, she tried to read what was written, only to have the book slammed shut. "What are you doing?" Bryson asked nervously. Annabel could almost see the sweat beads form on his hair covered forehead.

"Nothing," she waved off. His eyes relaxed, but not enough to give her comfort. The dull look in his eyes made her concerned. He looked genuinely worried. That fact scared her. Bryson's eyes were normally lit up around her, ever since they met in sophomore year. She had never seen his ice blue eyes so sad.

Bryson picked up on her thoughts. "Are you okay, Anna?" he asked, resting his hand comfortingly on her hand. She always felt better when someone held her hand.

She smiled. "Yeah," she answered, not really knowing if it was true or not. Something in that book is bothering Bryson and she was going to get to the bottom of it.

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><p>Her pencil tapped on her notebook, furiously. Hard at thought, she wasn't even paying attention to her biology notes, which was the main reason the writing utensils were even out. Right now, her focus wasn't on the parts and functions of a animal and plant cells, but rather on her routine she had scribbled down in the margins of her notebook and a tiny drawing her started during class to help with the stress. Biology wasn't a big deal to her. Her parents are literal geniuses and can help her with this. Right now, with only a month until competition, she had to perfect her routine, first by memorizing it.<p>

A fast tap to the arm brought her out of her concentration. "Dude, quit it," Xavier whispered, staring at the board with a confused look in his eyes.

Oliviera shook her head, trying to come back to reality. "What? Oh, sorry," she apologize, scrambling to write down the notes she missed.

Xavier took a quit look over at her paper. "Only plants have cell walls," he corrected, reading her notes.

"Huh?" She looked up from her notebook, still writing down the information.

"You wrote that animal cells have cell walls. Only plants do," he replied, pointing to the mistake with his pencil.

Scared, Oliviera quickly flicked it away, leaving a giant pencil streaking on her paper. "You obviously forgot what we had discussed on Friday: you don't talk to me, I don't talk to you."

He rolled his eyes and finished copying the notes. "Just trying to help…" Frantically, Oliviera scrambled to write down the rest of the information as Xavier put his stuff in his book bag. "Are you that embarrassed of me?"

"Me? Embarrassed of you? Yeah, right," she answered as the bell rang. She stared at her unfinished notes in defeat. "More like I'm embarrassed for you."

A hurt and annoyed look cross the boy's face. Quickly, he took out his notebook and threw it at the brunette. "Just give it back tomorrow," he said, leaving the classroom with the rest of the class.

Oliviera picked up the notebook, glancing back and forth between it and the doorway the owner left through. "Just because we spent an afternoon together- well, kind of together- doesn't mean he has to be all friendly?" she thought, shoving the two notebooks into her bag. But she did welcome the opportunity to have a new friend, something she was in desperate need of, even though the possibility of her and Mr. Hockey ever being acquaintances was a long shot.

Throwing her bag over her shoulder, she said goodbye to her teacher and walked out of the room. As she turned the corner, her cell phone rang from her pocket, a special, romantic song. She knew exactly who it was. "Joe's Taco Shack," she answered, smoking even though she knew he wouldn't see it.

"That is so racist," the guy on the other end complained, while laughing at the same time.

"Only you…" she sighed, grabbing her art binder out of her locker.

"What can I say? I'm special," he bragged.

"Yeah, special, special Olympic," she joked, laughing at her own funny remark.

"Ouch, Lancaster," he faked. "That hit a nerve."

Her eyes rolled. As she walked past all the people heading to other classes, she giggled, "And what makes me so lucky to receive a call from you?"

"Well, I was at lunch and figured you would be heading to second block by now, so I thought I'd at least get a couple minutes to talk to my girlfriend," he answered, his cocky tone coming through loud and clear.

"Well, congratulation, you are correct," she smiled.

His tone took a turn for the serious. "When do I get to see you again? I miss you."

Her smile faded. "I don't know. Hopefully soon. I miss you so much." As she entered the classroom, the bell rang, loud enough for the boy on the other end to hear. "That's the bell."

"I heard," he replied sadly. "I'll call you after school." He took a pause, gathering his thought for the next four words. "I love you, Oliviera."

"I love you, too, Dakota."

* * *

><p><strong>Wow. Talk about unexpected!<strong>

**So how did you like the surpirse? Did it catch you off guard? I know it did for me...**

**I promise EClare in the next chapter, now that I have all of the characters introuced!**

**Thankd For Reading!**


	4. When We Don't Face The Blame

**After a long and difficult writing process, I am back!**

**So I apologize for the wait, but I wanted to make sure I covered everything I wanted to or felt like I needed to cover. I feel like Bryson's section is some of my best emotional work, where I really get into the mind of the character, so I'm really proud of that, whereas Oliviera's... well, I had a hard time writing hers, so it's not as good, in my opinion.**

**Well, there's nothing really important I wanted to talk about in my heading author's note...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Bryson threw his bag on his blue comforter on his floor. Since finding the journal the day before, every time he tried to fall asleep—which was at night and during study hall—thoughts of what was written haunted his dreams. When he awoke in the morning, the comforter had found its way from the edge of the bed nearest the wall to the floor on the opposite side. His pillow was over his head and his socks were hanging on the window curtains, all the way across the room. You could say it was a rough night.<p>

When the bag hit the ground, the contents splattered out. He groaned, rushing to place his gym clothes and laptop back in. His hand stopped when he reached for the journal. It was flipped upside down, open like a tent. Cautiously, he picked it up and flipped it over. The incriminating words on the incriminating page fell across his eyes. "November 16th, 2027," the page read. He could feel his cheeks redden and his eyes water. Just as fast as he read it, he threw it across the room. The journal hit the door side wall and landed on the pile of clothes with a loud thud, closed with the title facing up. It was like someone had placed it there purposefully, perfectly for the next passer-by to pick it up and find the dark secrets inside.

Bryson sighed angrily, calming down a bit. He knew it wasn't the book's fault. It didn't deserve the abuse he was dealing. It's not like the journal had lie to him, betrayed him, made his life a lie. He wanted to walk over to the journal and apologize, but it was just a book, not capable of holding emotions or pain. But still he felt sorry for it, because it had to be the secret keeper. It didn't ask to hold this information. It was a burden for the purple ink and paper, to hold the truth for so long.

He fell, collapsed on his knees in front of the pile of clothes that made a makeshift desk for the journal. Slowly, he ran his hand across the cover, as if to soothe the book, like it was crying. It's all he could do. His hands wouldn't grasp the book, wouldn't turn the page. They just caressed the cover, like a sign that meant that everything was okay. It wasn't, but the only thing that held the rest of tears back from falling down his cheeks: just the hope that things will get better.

A knock rang through his room. Nervously rubbing his eyes, Bryson turned around, looking at the door.

"Bryson, are you okay?" Clare asked from the other side of the door. "I heard a loud thud."

Bryson was finally able to pick up the journal, hold it in his hands. He took a look at the purple cover. His hands were just another set. Julia had touched this journal, held it, confided in it much before his time. He knew this journal was such an important part in her life and, now, his, too.

Clare, worried by the no immediate answer, rushed through the door. "Bryson, are you..." She stopped talking when she saw her son. He looked broken, on his knees in the floor, clutching something to his chest. "okay? she finished, hesitantly.

The blonde boy turned around, hugging the purple journal she knew too well. Julia's journal. She could help but look at the expressions mixed on her son's face: confused, hurt, disappointed. Nothing of the usual Bryson.

Parting his lips just enough, Bryson whispered, cracking in tears, "No, no, I'm not, mom."

Clare's heart broke at that tone. She knew what happened. He knew. Having to hold back some tears herself, she whispered, "I'm so sorry..."

Bryson looked down at the book. The impact from the wall made a dent in the top binding. Nothing permanent, easily fixable. This little book, the tiny pages with the tiny handwritten letter had caused him so much pain, but not enough comfort. He needed to know the truth. "I think we need to talk."

Clare slowly nodded. Her voice was caught in her throat. Cracking her voice, she was able to say "Yeah... I think we do."

**… … …**

"So when were you guys planning on telling me?" Bryson asked, quietly staring down at the wooden table under his folded arms. The polish held the tear stains inside. Bryson found himself finding picture made from the water, pictures of a flower, a car, a bow. He found it strange that he was finding all of these happy things. Shouldn't his mind see angry, depressing stuff, like chainsaws and dead puppies?

"We didn't have a plan, really," Clare admitted, crying just as much as Bryson was. "I'm so sorry..." she apologized again.

Bryson sighed, banging his head on his folded arms. He hated to see girls cry. It was like someone just kicked a puppy. "Don't cry, M-" he stopped abruptly. What should he call her? While his entire being is telling him that she was Mom, call her Mom, but that journal in the middle of the table was telling him otherwise.

Clare started crying more, trying poorly to hide it. "Mom, call me Mom, Bryson."

Bryson looked up at Clare and Eli. Clare looked just like her voice predicted: flushed face, puffy eyes, and a distraught look planted firmly in her eyes. Eli looked okay, a surprise to Bryson. As much as the hurt look on Clare's face made his stomach drop, he could bring himself to claim her as his mother. He looked at her and his mouth couldn't form the words. He was stuck.

The tears were visible rolling down Clare's cheeks. "Mom. Bryson, I am your mommy! Call me Mommy!"

"Clare," Eli warned, grabbing her hand.

Watching Clare start bawling made Bryson upset. He couldn't watch it anymore. He looked down at the journal. "I can't. I'm sorry."

The chair scraped across the tile flooring. "Excuse me," Clare apologized, briskly walking out of the room.

Once she left, Eli's comforting face faded. "How could you do that to your mother?"

"How could you do that to me?" Bryson yelled.

"We did what we thought was best," Eli calmly replied back.

Bryson calmed down, collecting his thoughts. A tear dropped from his cheek, staring at the table. "Best for you or best for me?"

Eli paused. He didn't know how to answer that. He didn't know the exact answer himself. Giving up, he groaned, "Mom. You just had to call her Mom!"

"But she's not!" Bryson jumped up, slamming his hands on the table. He felt his cheek redden, half from embarrassment from his fit and half from anger. How could he expect him to call her his mother after everything that had happened? "She's not. She never has been. She took on the role, but she was never my real mother." His hands shook on the wooden table. "My entire life, I've been raised on the value that family relationships are important, abstinence is the only way to not get pregnant. But now I find out I was the product of teenage sex ed gone wrong? I have every right to not address her by Mom, Eli." His name felt weird on Bryson's tongue. Every time he thought of Dad, Eli's picture appeared in his mind. He never called him by his given name.

"Bry..." Eli started.

"And what about Oliviera?" Bryson continued. "Did you ever think how this would affect her, too? The guy she grew up to know as her uncle is now her brother!"

"Livi wasn't born when we adopted you," Eli clarified, becoming very upset with the blonde boy. "We figured by the time they had another child, you would be old enough to understand what had happened and Oliviera wouldn't have to find out. She would have known."

"That doesn't make it right!" Bryson retaliated. "Why would you let me, us live a lie?"

"Bryson Elijah Goldswo-"

"Lancaster," he interrupted. "I'm not a Goldsworthy. I'm a Lancaster."

"Legally, you are a Goldsworthy," Eli reported.

Taking a few breaths, he paused. The anger he had built up inside of him had simmered. "It doesn't matter," Bryson whispered, wiping the back of his hand on his cheek. "I don't even know who I am anymore."

* * *

><p>Cautiously, Oliviera slipped through the locker room doors, checking for anyone who might see her. School had long since ended. She felt alone. Letting out a sigh of relief, she slipped her hair through a band and absentmindedly tossed her gym bag on the bleachers.<p>

After a few warm-ups and stretches, she flipped. Landing perfectly, she smiled. This was the first time that day she felt free, away from life's pressures and struggles.

"Now let's see you do that backwards," a voice laughed, startling the brunette. Her eyes flew to the sound, coming from the bleachers. Xavier smiled back at her. "I know you can."

She blushed, trying to play it cool, but failing miserably. "W-What are you doing here? I thought our last run-in would be our last."

"You have obvious talent. I can't stay away," he smirked, stretching out on the bleachers.

Oliviera's face turned disgusted. She was not a personal show. She would not be used for him to get his sick pleasures from. "Excuse me? You think you can just waltz in and watch me like a movie? Well, I'll tell you this." She walked up to him, pointing her finger in his nose. "I'm not a pole dancer, nor am I a stripper or a prostitute. This is not a showing. I will not show off to the likes of you."

The smirk stayed on his face. "Your shoulder's telling me otherwise," he pointed out, fingering the falling strap of her leotard back on her shoulder from its place halfway down her arm. Blushing, Oliviera swatted his hand away, then slapped his cheek. His reaction was the same. He continued smirking. "Feisty," he growled.

"You're such a pig," she seethed, turning back to the mats.

"Come on, I'm not that bad," he laughed, throwing her the baton from her bag. "Think fast."

Before she could react, the baton hit her, right in the forehead. Her head flung back and she crashed on the mats.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Xavier apologized, rushing down to her side. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry! I just thought, you know, with your amazing skills, that you would, you know… I'm so sorry!"

She groaned, rubbing her head. "Would you quit your yapping?" She sat herself up, with Xavier holding her up by her back. She felt a chill run down her spine from his touch. "I'm fine. Thanks."

"Are you sure?" Xavier asked, not letting her go.

She looked into his eyes, watching them wave with concern. "Why do you care so much? You've never cared this much. We've haven't interacted since kindergarten. Why start now?" The concern washed away. Instantly regretting her words, Oliviera pushed away his arm, moving onto her knees. "Can you just let me finish?"

Xavier stared at her, emotionless. "Do you like ice cream?"

Her eyes flew up at the odd question. "Y-Yes. I do. Why do you ask?"

"Tomorrow after school? You? Me? The new ice cream place down the street?" he asked. "I'll explain everything, although it's not much."

Free ice cream and a chance with a new friend? She couldn't pass this up. Blushing, she answered, "S-Sure. Why not?"

The emotionless express ran away from the blonde's face. He smiled. "Perfect." He stood up, shoving his hands into his back pocket. "It's a date."

**… … …**

"AH!" she screamed into her pillow on her bed. Flipping over to her back, she cradled the pillow, holding it close to her. Why did everything have to be so complicated? "'It's a date'? What does that even mean?" she thought aloud. An even more shocking thought popped into her head. "What am I going to tell Dakota?" Turning over on her side, she faced her Japanese Spitz. "Oh, Calcifer, why can't you talk? I need someone to explain to me."

Calcifer reached up, pawing her nose, tickling her face with his white fur. She giggled and he pounced, licking her face.

"C-Cal-Calcifer, stop!" she laughed, trying to push the dog off of her. But the white fluff ball was persistent. He continued to lick and paw her cheeks and nose until she gave in. "Okay! Okay!" she giggled. "I'm better."

Calcifer stopped and shook its tail rapidly at its owner, ticking her bare leg. Oliviera tried to pull her shorts down far enough to stop the tickling, but the pajamas were too short. Instead, she picked up the dog and placed him on the floor. Calcifer looked up at her, sad and confused. She giggled. "Come on, Calcifer."

She held open the door for the dog. He knew what that meant. Sprinting ahead, he took off downstairs. "Calcifer, wait up," she called after him, rushing down the stairs after the blur of white.

Calcifer sat in front of the pantry door, squirming from excitement. Chuckling, Oliviera ran into the kitchen, knowing exactly where her beloved pet would be waiting. She flung open the pantry door and fetched a rawhide bone. "Is this what you want?" she cooed, kneeling down to give him his nightly treat. With a small bark, Calcifer took it in his mouth and started to chew.

Oliviera let out a small chuckle at her dog before grabbing two Oreos from the package. Taking a bite out of the first one, something became apparent. "Where's Mom and Dad?" she thought. She looked out of the kitchen entrance into the living room to find it void of its title description.

Sliding across the hard wood in her socks to the other side of the kitchen, she peeking her head into her mother's work area, the place Julia had been cooped up in the past few days trying to finish the third book to her "Kerosene" series. Still no signs of life.

Sensing something, Calcifer barked, catching Oliviera's attention. He ran into the living room, the brunette following. Jumping over the couch and sliding the rug off balance, they both ran into Brady's studio door. Calcifer whimpered and Oliviera groaned. "Door's locked," she sighed, stating the obvious. She stood up and retrieved the key from behind the picture frame on the stand behind the couch. Unlocking the door, she met the same discovery as the others: empty. "Where are they?" she grumbled.

Placing the key back, she ran up the stairs to her parent's bedroom. Before she could walk in, her father's voice stopped her.

"Do you really have to go?" he asked, trying to whisper.

"Of course," Julia answered. A bag was zipped up. "He knows. I have to go back."

"But can't we wait until we both can go? Or maybe bring Oliviera?" he whispered.

"No," Julia growled, her voice echoing like she was in the connecting bathroom.

"She's going to find out eventually."

"But not today," she seethed, her voice returning to normal.

Calcifer tried to walk in during the silent moment, but Oliviera caught him, holding him in her arms. The house was silent for a few seconds until Julia spoke again.

"Listen, the start of high school is a tough time for any teenager. And she's not like us," she explained. "For one, she's actually fourteen and a freshman, and she doesn't have any friends. We at least had Brookie. Calcifer is her only friend. High school offers so many different opportunities to meet new people. I don't want her to have to worry about this, too."

"But Julia, I don't like hiding things from her..."

"We've been hiding this her whole life," Julia argued.

Calcifer wiggled in her arms, separate to be free from her grip. "No. Calcifer," she begged, catching the dog back in her arms. Unsatisfied with the results of his escape, he barked. Oliviera winced, tightening the grip on her pet.

A sigh escaped Brady's lips. "Oliviera, Calcifer, come out."

Cautiously, she walked into the bedroom. Calcifer escaped her arms, jumping down to the hardwood floor and onto the bed. Brady smiled at the dog and scratched behind Calcifer's ears.

Trying not to show her parent's that she eavesdropped on them, coolly, she asked, "What's with the suitcase, Mom? Are we going somewhere?"

Julia looked at we daughter, a worried look clouding her eyes. Before, she made a big deal about not telling her, but seeing her sad ice blue eyes, a matching pair to Brady's, she wanted to tell her. She needed to know. But Julia couldn't do it right now. The moment had to be right. "I have some business in Toronto," she answered. "Just some book signings and promos for the new book."

Oliviera knew it was a lie. She had just listened to most of their conversation, but she couldn't tell them that. Eavesdropping would break their trust in her. "So are you staying with Granma, Granpa, and Uncle Bryson?"

Both adults kept a straight face at the word "Uncle," although they both internally winced. He's not her uncle. They know it, Eli and Clare know it, even Bryson knows it, but Oliviera doesn't. It's hard for parents to lie to their kids. They've never lied to her before. In that house, they all trusted each other for the honest truth about anything. But then this surfaces? How is she going to take it when she realizes they've lied to her the whole time?

"Yeah," Julia said, zipping up the final bag. "I leave for the airport in the morning."

"Which means we're in charge of the house," Brady chuckled, changing the subject. She wrapped his arm around Oliviera's shoulders and swooped his other hand across the room. "Imagine: ice cream parties, video games, and all the pizza we want." He looked down at her, smiling. "We don't even have to use plates."

"Whoa, slow down there, party animal," Oliviera laughed, pushing his hand away. "Let's not go too far away from civilization."

"Okay, you two. Just promise me you'll keep the game-age to less than six hours," Julia warned. "I don't want a repeat of my first book tour."

"Oh, come on," Brady complained. "It wasn't that bad."

"I came back after three days to find the house a mess, Calcifer eating from the garbage, and you two camped out on the floor in front of the television with 52 and a half hours logged on the game," Julia retorted. "That's over two days. You guys didn't even stop to eat. You had take-out boxes all around you. I was surprised that I didn't see a bucket of urine behind the couch."

"Hey, we're not troglodytes!" Oliviera defended, smiling at the memory.

"She's just jealous that she didn't make it to level 68," Brady whispered.

Julia rolled her eyes. "I thought I was raising one kid, not two."

"Aw, you know you love me," Brady smirked.

"But I mean it, you two." Julia pulled her zipped suitcase off of the bed and sat it next to the door. "My flight leaves tomorrow at 9:00. That means I'll have enough time to drop you off at school." She pointed to Oliviera. "After that, it's up to you guys to keep this house spotless or it's no anime for you." Her finger moved to Brady. "And no sexy time for you."

"Ew..." the girl cringed. "Let me hear more about my parent's sex life."

"Well, your mom does this great thing where she..." Brady started, only to be hit by Julia.

"Blah, blah, blah!" Oliviera screamed, covering her ears. "No more! Spare me, please! Come on, Calcifer. Let's get out of here." She motioned for the dog, who quickly jumped off of the bed to the girl.

"Night, Livi," Brady whispered, kissing the top of her head.

"Good night, dad, mom," she smiled back, picking up her dog and walking into her room. Calcifer raced over to his dog bed, where he starts the night, but normally ends up on Oliviera's bed. As both settled in, she pulled the string over her bed, turning the light off.

She turned over on her back and stared at the glow stars on her ceiling. Most kids who had the stars normally had them in some type of constellation, but Oliviera preferred the way her dad put them up, arranged into the Japanese symbol for family. She had always been able to trust her family, especially her parents. They always encouraged her in everything she wanted and in return, she inspired them in both of their passions: writing and music. That trust came with honesty. She had never lied to her parents before. But what were they keeping from her? Back there, they seemed so comfortable avoiding the topic. Oliviera had no idea what was going on, but what she did know is that she felt betrayed.

* * *

><p><strong>And that's it.<strong>

**I highly suggest you look up an image of a white Japanese spitz. They are adorable and I thought it would be the perfect dog for her. Also, the name Calcifer comes from the favorite movie, Howl's Moving Castle. If you have a little over three hours to kill, I suggest watching it. It's an amazing movie and quite humorous with a great love story.**

**So how will things go with Julia and Bryson? What is going on with Xavier and Oliviera? Will Brady make it to level 93? **

**Thanks For Reading!**


	5. Won't You Believe

**Hello Readers!**

**Spring Break! So I figured I would get some writing done. Although I am really bullshiting this story. I mean, I know where I am and I know where I'm taking this, but I can't seem to find my way there. So that explains the unexcuseable late updates and slow chapters. Though, not everything is going to happen instantly. This also means that this story will most likely be longer than the five to six chapters I was planning.**

**Also I have a new song-shot series, similar to "Escape The Fate Through EClare" which has been put on haitus due to lack of creativity and he mourning of Max leaving the band, but this deals with one character, one mind, set to a Sleeping With Sirens song. I want to post one a week, because they are relativly short, but since I posted three the opening week, I skipped two weeks to balance it out, meaning that a new one should be out this weekend. The ones I ahve up are Jenna (not about boys), Clare (not about relationships), and Imogen (not about relationships or Clare). Got the the story to see a full list of songs and charcaters I plan on doing and give me suggestions for what I should do (please include song, character, and why the song fits if you do please. Tht will make it easier for me to write it).**

**This chapter is dedicated the munrochambers4ever, a recently retired writer whose amazing writing inspired me to continue my own. I wish you well on wherever you head next in life. :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>"Bryson Goldsworthy to the main office. Bryson Goldsworthy." The intercom clicked off. His teacher excused him, swiping his hand to the class door. Annabel turned around in her seat, a confused look plastered on her face. Bryson shrugged, slinging his back pack over his should and history book under his arm.<p>

The hallway was quite for this time of day. Normally around seventh period, you could find kids hiding in the bathroom to escape class or roaming freely in the halls, not caring if they get caught. But today, there was no one. He even looked inside the bathroom to see if anyone was here, but to no avail. He shook his head, reminding himself what he was doing in the hall in the first place anyway.

He turned the handle of office door, opening it and walking up to the front desk. "Bryson Goldsworthy," he said, showing the secretary his ID badge around his neck.

"Bryson?" A familiar woman's voice shook behind him.

He slowly turned around to the waiting area of the office. "J-Julia?"

She stood up, not daring to walk over to the boy. "Bryson…"

"Here's your check-out slip." The secretary handed the boy a piece of paper, allowing him to exit the building.

He took the slip, reading it over. "Degrassi Exit Slip. Student: Bryson Goldsworthy. Picked up by: Julia Lancaster… on guardian list." He looked up at Julia, her eyes pleading with him to come. The sight made his knees shake. Julia was a tough person. She didn't cry very easily most of the time, but she looked like she was so close to losing it. As much as he wanted to be there for her, to comfort her, he couldn't. He was close to losing it, too.

Bryson slammed the slip back on the desk. "I'm going back to class."

Julia reached out, trying to grab his arm. "Bryson, listen…"

He moved out of her way. "No. I'm sorry, but I don't want to hear another life-altering lie." With that, he walked out of the office and started down the hall.

"Bryson, wait!" Julia called, running after him. "Please!"

He stopped, staring ahead. He didn't want to look back. He knew that if he looked back, he would break faster than he knew he would. "What?" he asked curtly.

"Let me explain," she offered, finally reaching him.

"I don't want an explanation," he seethed. "You did what you did. It's done. It's over. Now if you don't mind, I would like to return to history." He said that, but his legs wouldn't move. He tried to get away, but his feet wouldn't go off the ground.

"Bry, please. Come with me…" she begged. "Let me explain… everything."

He knew he would regret it, knew he would crack, but he turned around. Julia stood about five feet back, her hair a mess and her face flushed. The sight just about killed him. He exhaled quickly. "If I come with you, you can't expect me to not be mad."

Julia smiled, walking towards him. She placed her hand on his forearm. "I didn't come here expecting you to be okay with everything."

"At least we're on the same page about something."

**… … …**

Bryson flung the door open, jogging his way to the stairs. Julia ran in after him. "Bryson, wait!"

He stopped, one foot on the bottom stair. "I said don't expect me to not be mad."

Eli, startled by the noise, came out of his study where he was working on his next review. "Okay, what's going on?"

"You knew she was here?" Bryson exclaimed, pointing towards Julia. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Please calm down, sweetie," Clare soothed, grabbing his shoulder from coming down the stair.

Bryson's eyes wandered from each family member, the look startling. "Where did you all come from? One minute, it's just me and Julia, and then it's all of you. So where's Brady: in the hall closet? Oliviera: on the couch? LA: the backyard?"

"Brady and Oliviera are back in Florida," Julia answered.

"So my own _father_ didn't want to talk to me? That's nice, real nice. And Oliviera…" He shook his head miserably, obviously angry. "Does Livi even know?"

She looked from her mom to her dad. She knew the answer, but she was afraid to say it aloud. "No…" Eli answered for her.

He scoffed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "This is bullshit," he seethed.

"Bry, you need to calm down," Clare whispered, shushing him softly.

"I don't want to calm down!" Bryson exclaimed, swiping Clare's hand away. He looked down at his feet, breathing heavily. "You can't expect me to be all calm and happy about this. You've lied to me my whole life." His breathing became louder and shorter. "I-I feel betrayed. I just can't believe you would keep this from me. I thought we had an agreement that we wouldn't lie to each other. I've told you everything! _Everything!_" He slammed his hand on the banister, taking out his aggression out on the wood, but also to hold him up. "I… can't believe this is happening. Everything was going good. I was a normal teenager… until I found that stupid journal." With the hand that wasn't on the railing, he pointed to his bag on the ground. "It's in there… I read the entire year… of 2027, thirteen… thirteen times." He crouched over, trying to catch his runaway breath. "I… I-I… I can't breathe."

"Bryson!" Julia and Clare exclaimed as Eli grabbed him before he could hit the ground.

"Bryson. Bryson." Eli tried to calm him down, carrying him over to the couch.

"I'm… I'm fine," he gasped, trying to remove himself from Eli's gripe. "I've got this."

"Bryson, you're hyperventilating," Clare warned, gently pushing him to the couch.

He couldn't talk, just shake his head in a "No" response. His hand rose, trying to swat away the hands around him.

"Pinch one nostril," Julia instructed, grabbing on to one of Bryson's flailing hands and holding it close to his nose. Eli and Clare stared at her, questioning looks on both of their faces. Julia shrugged. "What? Oliviera used to hyperventilate a lot when she was younger." Eli and Clare shook it off and went back to Bryson. He was doing what he was told. He had one side of his nose closed off. "Now breathe through your nose." He closed his mouth and started to breathe. The breaths became more stable and less furious.

"Good," Clare praised, brushing a bit of hair behind his ear. "Good."

His breath steadied, back to normal. He shook and whispered, "Water?"

Eli quickly ran to fetch him some and came back in amazing time. Bryson graciously took the glass and took slow sips of the fluid. No one talked, just let Bryson drink his water until the entire glass was gone. He set it on the coffee table and ran his hand through his messy blonde hair, calming down even more. "Thanks…" he whispered, staring at the coffee table.

"It's a lot to take in," Julia said, running her hand down his back.

"Too much," he answered. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Eli assured him. "You said a lot. How about you take a nap and we'll talk later?"

Bryson shrugged, shuffling his way from the couch to the stairs. Once they heard a door shut, Julia burst in to tears. "Do you see what we're doing to this kid? Did you see that look of fear in his eyes? He hyperventilated, for fuck's sake!"

"Well, what do you supposed we do about it?" Clare asked, a tone of desperation ringing through her voice.. "It's not like we can go back in time and stop him from reading the journal."

"Or stop you from having him," Eli put in, immediately regretting it.

Julia, wiping the tears from her cheeks, whispered, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He mentally slapped himself for that comment. "That's not what I meant. I just mean…"

"That you wished Bryson was never born? That I didn't get pregnant? That you didn't have a slut for a daughter?" Julia yelled, crossing her arms. "Just that, Dad."

"Julia, I'm sure there is a perfectly good explanation for your father's," Clare's head turned towards Eli, eyes blazing, "verbal vomit."

"Jules, I love Bryson. I really do," he assured her. "But the time he came into the world was not the greatest. I mean, you were fourteen. Fourteen, Julia. Livi's age. You're a parent. How would you feel if she was pregnant?"

Julia looked down at the carpet, "Angry. Worried. Scared for her. But I'd also beat the sorry sap she was with."

"See where I'm coming from?" Eli reasoned. "You were barely a teenager. When I was fourteen…"

"You were having sex with your Julia," his daughter interrupted.

Eli winced at the memory, but continued. "Touché. But it was wrong of us, too." He exhaled loudly, sighing. "You were just a kid. A kid shouldn't have to raise a kid, much less go through the childbirth."

"That was a pain in the ass," she agreed, blushing about the topic.

"I'm pretty sure babies don't come out of your ass," Eli smirked, trying to get her to laugh. It worked, even if it was just for a second, it worked. "But my point here is: you did the right thing. Would I have wanted to you have kids later than you did? Hell yes. I never wanted you going through that at such an early age. But that doesn't mean I love Bryson and Oliviera any less." They hugged. "And I never want to hear you call yourself a slut again." Julia nodded, rubbing her cheeks.

"Now that we established the reason," Clare interrupted, "how do we break it to the kids?"

"Let me and Brady tell Oliviera," Julia said. "But as for Bryson, let's give him some time to cool off. I feel so bad for the kid. We should have let him know when he was younger. He could have grown up knowing and not have to worry about this."

"We kinda fucked up on that part," Eli agreed, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

* * *

><p>"Calcifer, be good. Don't embarrass me," Oliviera warned. Calcifer sniffed the ground beside the ice cream shop. Straightening her clothes and hair out, making sure everything was perfect, she walked around the corner. Sitting outside of the little shop was Xavier, playing with his ice cream. Trying not to sneak up on him, she called out, "Xavier."<p>

His head shot up, a small smile appearing on his face. "Hey," he greeted.

"Sorry, I'm late. The only way I could get out of the house was to take Calcifer for a walk," she explained, taking a seat.

"Calcifer?" Xavier asked, his eyes looking confused.

"Oh, yeah," she remembered. She tied his leash to the chair and picked him up, setting him in her lap. "Xavier, Calcifer. Calcifer, Xavier."

The white dog barked excitedly, his tail hitting the table.

"Well, hello," he greeted, petting Calcifer's head. "You look like Lily."

"Lily?" Oliviera asked.

"My dog," he explained. Oliviera nodded. "Aren't you going to get anything?"

Her eyes widened, remembering that she was at an ice cream shop. "Oh, yeah. Watch Calci?"

He chuckled at the dog. "Anything for that adorable face," he cooed.

Calcifer jumped from Oliviera's lap and leaped over to Xavier as she stood up. "Be right back." Once she was inside, she ordered a small vanilla bowl, sprinkles for topping. While waiting for her order, she looked out of the shop window. Xavier was petting and playing with Calcifer, who was obviously overjoyed by his company. She smiled. "At least he's good with dogs," she thought, finding herself staring at the two.

"Vanilla cup, sprinkles?"

How his hair lightly swayed in the afternoon breeze.

"Vanilla cup, sprinkles?"

How his eyes get a little twinkle when she smiles.

"Vanilla cup, sprinkles!"

How he gets those cute little dimples...

"Hey, girl, purple shirt, black vest!" The counter guy called, pulling her from her trance. "Vanilla cup, sprinkles!"

Blushing, she went up and took her order from the annoyed worker, having already paid for it. As she walked out, Calcifer came leaping towards her, dragging the chair.

"Calcifer, no!" she commanded, stopping him in his tracks. She pointed back to the table. "Go back to Xavier!" He obeyed, dragging the chair right next to the boy. Taking a look at the minimal amount of distance between them, Oliveria took the chair and moved it back to across the table, taking a seat. "So any reason for this gathering?"

"It's not really a gathering," he corrected, licking his spoon. "It's just you, me, and the dog."

"Ha, ha," she faked, taking the first cold bite of her ice cream.

"Vanilla and rainbow sprinkles?" he observed, laughing. "Whoa, slow down there, wild thing."

"Yeah, sure. Laugh at the girl you invited here," she joined it, taking another obvious bite. "So why are we here?"

"All in good time," Xavier calmly replied, resting his head in the back of his hands behind him. "First let's get to know each other. You first?"

Oliviera looked at him questioningly. She had seen enough teen drama series to know where this might lead. "And makes me believes you won't just run off and tell someone to get back at me for god-knows-what I did?"

He held his hand out, fingers curled in, except his pinky finger. "Pinky promise?"

"A pinky promise?" she asked. "You expect me to take your word on a pinky promise?"

He smirked. "It worked in first grade."

Her mind wandered back to that year. Xavier was in her class. Their seats where relatively close to each other, in alphabetical order, and that year, Hanley and Lancaster fell three seats apart. A memory swarmed back into her head, one of six-year-old Xavier asking for a pencil, pinky promising to give it back by the end of the day. Just a promised, she found it backing her desk as she came back from getting her backpack.

"That was you," she whispered, a strange look on her face turning amazed.

"I never break a pinky promise," he smiled. Smiling back, Oliviera extended her pinky, locking hers with his. "Spill, Lancaster."

"How much do you want?" she asked.

"As much as you want to give me," he answers, leaning back.

"Okay, then. My full name is Oliviera Alexandria Lancaster. I was born on December 4th of 2030 to Julia and Brady Lancaster, which makes me fourteen. I moved down here when I was four from Toronto in Canada. My dad got a job down here for a record company, writing his own music and some for other artists. My mom is a bestselling author of the Kerosene series, who could write anywhere, doing anything. She started writing while pregnant with me," she started, trying to figure out where to take it. "Calcifer's my best friend, seeing as I have terrible social skills."

"Doesn't seem like that to me," Xavier smirked, leaning forward on the table. "You're talking to me like an old friend."

"That's because you treat me like an old friend," she pointed out.

"Touché, Lancaster," he nodded. "Continue."

"And I know exactly why I have terrible people skills!" Oliviera laughed, preparing herself to give the speech she's worked out her whole life. "My parents ruined me."

Xavier raised an eyebrow.

"Listened to me," she persuaded. "My parents weren't popular. They had each other, one other friend, and whoever she was dating. And my grandfather wasn't the best influence either! Thanks to them, I was raised on video games, rock music, and Japanese culture."

"Your family Japanese?" he asked, lifting Calcifer onto his lap again.

"Not in the slightest," she smirked, causing Xavier to chuckle. "When I was two, my favorite bedtime story was Shugo Chara, a manga—a Japanese comic— from when my grandfather was a kid. By the time I was nine, I had mastered the Japanese language."

Not missing a beat, he demanded, excitedly, "Say something in Japanese!"

"Anata wa kanari me o shite iru," she smiled, blushing slightly.

"And what does that mean?"

"You'll just have to find out for yourself, Zeivia-kun," she teased.

"My name in Japanese?" he asked.

"You catch on fast," she congratulated, licking the ice cream off of her spoon. "Where did that confidence come from?" she thought.

"So if I'm Zeivia-kun, what should I call you?" He pulled out his phone, handing it to her. "Maybe you should write it down there."

She took a look at the screen, taking the phone from his hand. The screen showed a new contact screen. "You want my number?"

"Yeah," he answered.

"Why?" she asked, typing her number in.

"Well, you know Japanese better than most kids in our school know English. You're great with dogs. You're an amazing gymnast. And you play video games. I don't even know which ones, but you play. That's good enough for me." He smiled, making Oliviera notice a small blush on his cheeks. "And you have pretty eyes. I'm a sucker for ice blue eyes."

"Don't you mean 'Anata wa kanari me o shite iru'?"

"That's what that means!" he exclaimed, reaching for his phone, which she was holding out to him. "Arekusandoria-chan?"

"There really isn't a name for Oliviera," she cringed, embarrassed. "It's my middle name."

"Did I pronounce it right?" he asked, typing something on his phone.

"Close enough," she giggled. "Don't worry about it. Just call me Oliviera."

"What about O? Or Livi?" He smiled hugely, knowing he was pissing her off. "Livi sounds pretty. I'll call you Livi."

She glared playfully. "How about Oliviera? Unless I'm allowed to call you Xavi."

"You can call me... anytime," he winked.

Oliviera blushed, pushing around the ice cream in the bowl hastily. The situation was uncomfortable. Should she be letting this happen, especially with Dakota not knowing anything?

"So I guess you're wondering why I asked you here," he concluded, plucking a sprinkle from the side of Oliviera's bowl. She silently scoffed, but didn't argue. "Well, I honestly haven't figured that out myself."

"Wha...?" she faded, dropping her spoon into her bowl. "I come here for answers to why all of a sudden you take an interest in me, someone you haven't talked to since elementary school, just to have you say you don't know?"

"But you had fun, did you?"

The question confused Oliviera. "What?"

"When was the last time you went somewhere, did something fun with someone around your age and of the same species? No offense, Calcifer," he apologized, petting the dog behind his ear. The white pup's hind leg started shaking in pleasure at being scratched.

"Well, uh..." she murmured, thinking back. "There was..." Was she seriously that pathetic that she couldn't remember her last interaction with other teenagers? "I guess last year. I went back to Canada during the summer between seventh and eighth grade. I spent the day with my uncle, his girlfriend, and his best friend." Best friend? Why didn't she say her boyfriend?

"I said around your age," he clarified.

"My uncle's seventeen," she explained. "Uncle Bryson is three years older than me. Does that count?"

"I-I guess," he stuttered. "Three years older? My youngest uncle is 36."

"It's kinda disturbing if you think about it, but I just treat him like a cousin or something," she said, finishing her ice cream. Instinctually, she licked the spoon, making sure all of the ice cream was complete. Xavier tried not the laugh at the motion. She raised an eyebrow at him until she realized the reason. The spoon went flying over to the blond boy, who held up his hands shielding himself as he burst out laughing. "Perv!" she shrieked, laughing just as hard as he was. "You're just like Dakota!"

"North or South?" he joked between laughs.

"Oh, ha ha," she scoffed. "Dakota is this pervert friend I have." Friend? Just friend? No 'boy' in front of it? She mentally winced at that mistake. "So where were you heading with this?"

Xavier took a minute to calm down. Exhaling deeply, he said, "When I walked in on you in the gym, I seriously didn't think it was you. It seemed too flawless and perfect to be you."

She glared. "Thanks..."

"I didn't mean it like that!" he defended, reaching over to her. "It's just: you don't seem like the type of person to be into that."

Nodding, she sighed. "I see what you mean."

"Not trying to hurt your feeling, but you're a freak. Everyone thinks you're a weird loner who acts like a four-year-old and can't grow up."

Oliviera crossed her arms, scowling. "Tell me something I don't know. Do you just ask me here to insult me or is there a point to this?"

"But they don't know the real you. Heck, I don't even know the real you." Xavier grabbed her arm, holding her to the table. "But I want to. I want to know the real you." Their eyes connected. Oliviera shifted uncomfortably as he placed his hand gently on her arm. A shiver went from her elbow to her shoulder and down her spine. "If you'll let me."

His blue eyes smiled up at her, begging, pleading for her to say yes. "Why now?" was all she could ask.

"Because I was too ignorant to realize how amazing you could be." His hand was still touching her arm, as if to hold her in place for him to finish. "No one should be lonely."

As much as she wanted to, she held back her tears. She wanted to cry, break down right there and let everything out, but she felt like that might scare him off. She wasn't sad, not by any standards, but happy. This was the first time someone had reached out to her on their own free will, without someone introducing them, like with Dakota and Annabel. This was the first time anyone had made the decision on their own to get closer to her.

She smiled, placing her hand on his that was resting on her arm. "If I let you in, you have to promise me one thing."

"Name it," he whispered.

"Don't bail when you learn about my life."

He smiled, placing his other hand on hers. "I wouldn't dream of it," a smirk flashed on his face, "Livi-chan."

* * *

><p><strong>Hopefully over spring break, my brain will realize deside how to get from point A to point B so I can update faster for you guys.<strong>

**_Author Question For You:_ Now that you've seen the personalities of both Xavier (in this chapter) and Dakota (in chapter 1) and how Oliviera talks with both, who do you like better: Xavier and Oliviera or Dakota and Oliviera? I know who I'm shipping, but you may just change my mind. Also, what is the couple name for the couple you chose? So far, I have Xaviera (suggested by Hamster157) and Livikota. **

**Thanks For Reading!**


	6. UpdateDiscontinued (Remain plot posted)

**Hey, guys. Well, this is a long time coming. Over a year, actually.**

**As much as I love Degrassi, I lost interest in fanfiction. I feel bad about leaving this just out, but I never truly had an ending for it. So, to the fans of this series, I'll give you a quick summary of the two endings. They both start out the same:**

Bryson ends up telling Oliviera the truth, sending her into a downward spiral. She tries to ignore it, but ends up being consumed by it. During one of her practices, she begans to overthink the situation and accidentally sprains her ankle in her wandering mind. Xavier, who weasles his way into her practices, and a friendship with her, tries to help her get her life back together, once she tells him about her family and now that she can't compete for a while. Oliviera opens up to him and the two become closer, but she doesn't fee right about it, considering she still with Dakota. When Julia and Brady find out that she knows, Brady and Oliviera fly back to Canada, where a heated argument between the grandkids and the kids erupts, until Oliviera feels it necessary for her to stay with Eli and Clare for a while until things get situated again.

**This is where I was stuck between two plotlines.**

* * *

><p>1) During this course of time, Bryson and Oliviera end up becoming closer and more like brother and sister, especially when they discover a horrible secret: Dakota and Annabel had been cheating on them with each other. With two of his biggest support systems gone, Bryson decides that Toronto, even being near the Goldsworthy family line, isn't good for him anymore, and he runs away, never to be heard from again. All he leaves are notes of promise to Oliviera and apologies to Eli and Clare. However, the readers would have known that he went to British Columbia under a fake ID, got his GED, and started studying to become a genealogist, a line of work that made him discover where he really came from.<p>

After finding out about Dakota, Oliviera is heartbroken. The only person she feels like she could talk to on the subject was Xavier, who listened to her with open ears and a comforting tone. When Bryson runs away, no one really knows what to do, but Brady takes Oliviera back to Florida to catch her up on her school work and get her mind off of everything. When she gets back, she finds a note in her locker, telling her to go to the gym at lunch. She sets it aside and continues on with her day, trying to avoid talking to Xavier in public like she planned to do. After school, she relcuantly goes to the gym, where she finds four floor mats in the center, with a picnic blanket in the middle and two bowls of ice cream in the center. Xaviers calls her from the top of the bleachers and makes his way down. He did it all for her: he wrote the note, he set up the gym where they first met, he got the ice cream from the shop they went to. Over the course of time they had known each other, Xavier has fallen for her, the true Oliviera he got to know, not the one everyone though she was. Oliviera accepts his invite to the makeshift date with a kiss, and the two start a beautiful, albeit turbulent thanks to her classmates impression of her, relationship.

2) With his whole life turning upside down in front of him, Bryson starts to go crazy, questioning who he is, who everyone is, and what is his purpose. These behaviors start to concern Annabel, but when she confronts him, Bryson always questions her motives, thinking that she's in on the plan with his family to ruin his life. After a while, Annabel can't take Bryson's antics anymore, and officially concerned for her safety, breaks up with him. At this point, Bryson realized that he lost the only thing stable in his life. Annabel was the one thing trying to keep him sane during this and he had lost her. He lost eveything: his mind, his girl, himself. In the end, Bryson didn't see a point in continuing on is his confusing existence and ends his life by hanging himself in his room. When Dakota finds him, the entire family is in shock.

After the funeral, Julia and Brady feel like it would be best to take Oliviera back home and give her some time to adjust to the new circumstances. Oliviera's life has taken a terrible turn. With her cousin-brother dead and her boyfriend breaking up with her, due to the fact that she was a constant reminder of the sight he saw of his best friend, she had nowhere to turn to. During school, Xavier would try to comfort her, to no avail. But he never gave up. Months went by with constant therapy sessions and talking, but Oliviera was never the same. The one thing that remained constant was Xavier. He turned into her best friend. In this plot, I would have included an epilogue to tell you that Xavier and Oliviera did end up getting together, but not until much later when they get into their college life.

* * *

><p><strong>Now there are some things that would have remained the same.<strong>

1). LA and Calissa would have had twins, that I only mentioned slightly in the preview. They would have had them the night before Bryson ran away in plot one or the day of the funeral in plot two. Either plot, it would have been two boys. In plot one, their names would be Elijah Cayden and Dixon Adam, after Eli, LA, and Calissa's brother. In plot two, their names could have been Elijah Bryson and Adam Cayden, in honor of Bryson's death.

2) Eli and Clare were going to have a prominent part in the ending of both. This is a fanfiction and needs to include more of them. They're older now, in their fifties, and with so much that would happen in either plotline, so many topics could be branched off in them. The last two chapters or so would be dedicated to them, the ones that started it all, the ones that started A Lifetime.

**Thank you very much to everyone who has read my dumb little series. I really wish you could see how muchI've improved since then and how much your reviews have inspired me to keep writing.**

**So for the final time, Thanks for Reading.**

**Love, GoldsworthyGontierGirl123 aka Sky**


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